Flowers by the most unpoetical. The emblem of all ages, the interpreter of all our feelings, the Rose mingles with our festivities, our joys, and our griefs. Its fragrance is as delightful as its hues; and no truer emblem of love and beauty could have been chosen. I have cherished A love for one whose beauty would have charmed Such thoughts and feelings, such a clear deep stream As a dull pebble from them, I had loved Not with a love less fond, nor with a flame Percival. There's no miniature In her face, but is a copious theme, Which would, discoursed at large of, make a volume. What clear arched brows! what sparkling eyes! the lilies Contending with the roses in her cheeks, Who shall most set them off. What ruby lips!— Or unto what can I compare her neck, Not borrowed from it. Massinger. PEONY....Anger. The Peony is chosen as the emblem of Anger from its red and fiery hues. It is a large double flower, and presents a superb appearance; but is almost destitute of scent. I am burned up with inflaming wrath; A rage, whose heat hath this condition, That nothing can allay, nothing but blood, The blood, and dearest valued blood, of France. The wildest ills that darken life Its high wave mingling with the cloud, To anger's dark and stormy sea. J. W. Eastburne. Oh, that my tongue were in the thunder's mouth! Shakspeare. NETTLES.... Cruelty. Nettles may be considered the appropriate emblem of cruelty. How often, while in search of flowers, have we felt the sting of these unrelenting plants! We call that punishment cruel which visits us without our doing an injury which deserves it; and, as we never wished to be in the vicinity of the Nettles, nor, therefore, to injure them, our boyish fancy looked upon them as cruel. Spare not the babe, Whose dimpled smiles from fools exhaust their mercy; Hath doubtfully pronounced thy throat shall cut, Do not insult calamity; It is a barbarous grossness to lay on Shakspeare. The weight of scorn, where heavy misery Too much already weighs men's fortunes down. Oh, he's accurst from all that's good, Who never knew Love's healing power; Such sinner on his sins must brood, And wait alone his hour. If stranger to earth's beauty—human love, Daniel. Dana. COLUMBINE....Desertion. Bring Lilies for a maiden's grave, Tulips for all who love through life In brave attire to ride: Bring each for each, in bower and hall, But cull the Columbine for all. "The Columbine? full many a flower Why, when so many fairer shine, Examine well each floweret's form,— That claims a fancied semblance there. Know ye the cap which Folly wears In ancient masques and plays? Does not the Columbine recall That toy of olden days? And is not folly reigning now O'er many a wisdom-written brow? 'Tis Folly's flower, that homely one; Of every human breast; For though ye tend both mind and bower, Then gather roses for the bride, For rest ye sure that follies dwell Gather ye laurels for the brow But ne'er forget to intertwine Forget it not;—for even they, Mid all their wealth of golden thoughts, Weave ye an armful of that plant, With that red, blood-dipped wreath ye bring |